


Priceless

by Eressë (eresse21)



Series: The Sons of Elrond [4]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Community: fanfic100, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eresse21/pseuds/Eress%C3%AB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not all wealth can be measured in gold. </p><p>Written for the fanfic100 challenge on LJ. Fandom: J.R.R. Tolkien - The Sons of Elrond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Priceless

**Author's Note:**

> _The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them._

**Prompt: Beginnings**

The Last Homely House, Rivendell, T.A. 139  
Dawn’s burgeoning light crept across the firmament as Elrond tenderly wiped his wife’s glistening brow before bending to press a gentle kiss to her pale lips. Her eyelids fluttered open and she managed a tired smile.

“Do they please you?” she whispered.

“That is an egregious understatement,” he replied with some mirth. But his eyes were suspiciously bright. “I fear my heart will burst from joy. My thanks for so wondrous a gift, beloved.”

Celebrían’s smile widened further before her eyes closed once more in her exhaustion. Elrond tucked the covers about her shoulders.

“Rest, dearest,” he murmured soothingly.

She nodded and with a sigh slipped into replenishing slumber. Elrond gazed at her with brimming love and gratitude then turned toward the cradle that stood in the warmest corner of the chamber. He walked to it and peered down at the babes who lay within. 

Their coloring marked them as his. Their silken hair was raven black, thick upon their heads even at birth. Their skin, while white and luminous like their mother’s, had the unmistakable warmer hue of their Peredhel father’s complexion. And their tiny bodies bore a solidity not found in Elven infants and belied their seeming fragility. 

He had known his lady was carrying twins. He was a healer of great renown after all and early on he had detected the presence of not one but two souls in his wife’s womb. Hence the commissioning of a cradle large enough to hold a pair of infants. 

Nevertheless, the emergence of his sons one after the other had still rendered him speechless with wonder. It was one thing to know of their existence, another altogether to behold them in the flesh and hold them in his arms. 

As he continued to gaze at the mites he had sired, their eyes opened and he caught his breath when he found himself staring into dark pools of twilight grey. And descried in their depths one means to tell his sons apart. For the elder twin’s irises were tinged with blue while the younger one’s gleamed with flecks of silver. 

He stared at them in fascination and swelling pride. Had he ever seen more beauteous infants? With understandable partiality he decided on the contrary.

Almost in concert, perhaps enthralled by their sire’s blatant admiration of their diminutive selves, the twins’ lips parted in toothless grins and their first gurgling coos floated up to their happily besotted father. The tears he had been holding back finally spilled down his cheeks.

Crooning to his precious sons, Elrond lifted them out of their cradle, one babe nestled in the crook of each arm. He walked to his hearthside armchair, ensconced himself in the cozy seat and settled down to get to know his children more thoroughly. 

Once again he gazed at them, studying each long and lovingly. A knock on the door drew him out of his pleasant endeavor and he looked up to espy Glorfindel peering in, a delighted grin creasing his fair countenance.

Elrond grinned back and invited the captain to join him. Glorfindel’s eyes lit up with awe as soon as he laid them on the babies.

“They are exquisite,” he said in a hushed voice. “My felicitations on your good fortune, Elrond.”

The Peredhel lord beamed his thanks. “I will not gainsay you,” he laughingly added.

Glorfindel chuckled. “Have you named them?”

Elrond nodded. “Ere they were born Celebrían and I knew they would be sons and we chose names for them accordingly.” He looked at the elder of the twins and, with much fatherly pride, announced: “This is Elladan.”

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow in surprise before he recognized the homage paid to Elrond’s long deceased brother turned human king. In this child’s name was reflected the heritage of the Peredhil. Eldar and Edain. The Elves of the Great Journey and the Men of the West.

“And this one?” he gently queried, perusing the other infant.

Elrond’s eyes gleamed joyously. “His name is Elrohir,” he said. 

Glorfindel smiled. Again the dual legacy of the Half-elven had been duly acknowledged. For who else could rightfully carry the double appellation of immortal Elf and mortal knight? 

“They are fitting names for these _maethyr dithen_ ”—little warriors—the captain said. Of a sudden, his ocean-hued eyes glittered with foreknowledge and he said: “Guard them well, Elrond.” 

Elrond curiously looked at his friend. Few bested his foresight and Glorfindel was counted amongst those few. “Think you they will need guarding?” he inquired with some unease.

Glorfindel’s brow furrowed in thought. “Not their bodies,” he replied at last. “But their hearts and souls shall if the Eldar are to claim them for their own. I will help you, _mellon vell_ ”—dear friend. “All Imladris will. You have already borne too many losses.”

Elrond’s initial alarm subsided somewhat and he gratefully gazed at the captain. “My thanks, Glorfindel,” he said.

The Elf-warrior smiled and, with a last fond appraisal of the infant twins, took his leave. Elrond thoughtfully regarded his sons, his earlier disquiet giving way to waxing confidence. Forewarned was forearmed and Glorfindel had bestowed both upon him. He would keep them, he vowed. He would win them for the kindred he had chosen. 

He leaned back in his chair, cradling his children close. He grinned as he listened to their soft chirps and snortles. No treasure in Arda could match the wealth he held in his arms.

In the space of one night, he had grown rich beyond compare.

******************************  
Glossary:  
Peredhel (pl. Peredhil) – Half-elf/Half-elven  
Eldar – strictly speaking, the Elves who heeded the summons of the Valar in the First Age; the term includes the Sindar and Nandor who did not complete the journey to Aman  
Edain – the name given by the Elves to the Three Houses of Men who fought alongside them in the Wars of Beleriand in the First Age and were later given the land of Númenor as their reward

End


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